


Sagitta Luminis

by MagitekUnit05953234



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, alcohol use, kind of lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 01:03:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18680962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagitekUnit05953234/pseuds/MagitekUnit05953234
Summary: Noct feels as if he’s reading an edition of his favorite childhood novel that went through heavy but subtle editing between the version he knew and the one he now holds. The plot is the same, but the wording is off. Scenes are told just a little differently. Things are… wrong, in a way he can’t put his finger on.





	Sagitta Luminis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyrial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrial/gifts).



> The idea was originally non's, I just wrote it for him lol  
> The title is from a track on Madoka Magica's OST. It means "Arrow of Light."  
> If anyone has issues reading the glitch text, let me know and I will update the end notes with clear versions of affected sentences.  
> There is a brief scene including underage usage of alcohol, but it is a one time affair and is not done in excess.

It isn’t until Noctis is twelve years old that he begins to feel that something in his life isn’t quite right. He’s standing outside of his school, waiting for Cor to pick him up with Ignis in tow, and someone calls his name.

When Noctis turns around, no one is there. Nothing is in the little courtyard at all except for Noctis and some traffic cones left out from field day last week.

“Is something wrong, Noct?” Ignis asks when Noct climbs in the back of the car and Ignis follows behind him.

“No,” Noct blinks, clenching and unclenching his hands in his lap. “Just got a weird feeling earlier. Like I forgot something.”

“It wasn’t your homework, was it?” Ignis says, already leaning forward in his seat as if he’s actually about to tell Cor to turn the car around if Noct forgot his math worksheets in his locker.

“No,” Noct says. “Didn’t have any. Just… I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

»»————　★　————««

Noctis completely forgets about that feeling for a few years, but on the first day of high school it hits him like a truck. He spends the entire day feeling off, as if he’s reading an edition of his favorite childhood novel that went through heavy but subtle editing between the version he knew and the one he now holds. The plot is the same, but the wording is off. Scenes are told just a little differently. Things are… wrong, in a way he can’t put his finger on.

He doesn’t stop thinking about it after he gets home. It’s like he’s walking through all the rooms in his apartment and keeps misplacing his reason to go there, like he does sometimes when he gets up for a snack in the middle of the night and he just ends up dazedly basking in the cool of the open fridge as the ice cream slowly melts.

He spends that night in bed opening that mental refrigerator, staring in at the untouched kale and dubiously old jelly, wondering why he keeps walking into that kitchen in the first place.

»»————　★　————««

Usually Noct doesn’t dream, or he doesn’t remember his dreams after he wakes up. That changes shortly after he turns sixteen, when suddenly he dreams even if he so much as rests his eyes for twenty minutes.

_He͢y̛͞,̶ ̨̨Ņ̶̵o̢͘c̵t̴̸?҉_

_Yeah?_

_Y͞o͜ų ͘͞e̶v͏̢e̸͡r t͡͠h͝͏i̷n͏͢͞k̸ ̨a͠b̴o͠u̷͢t w̛ha̷̧̛t̡͠ ͠ļ̢if͡ę̕ ̨w̸̕͢o̴u̴̧͟l̵̴d̵̸͢ ͘͞b҉͘͝e̸̡ ͜҉l̕i̛͡k͘e ͏i̴f ̛͟y̢ơ͞u̧͡ ͢w͡e̵r̢̕ȩ̡n͞’t̢͟͡ ̛͟y̶o͡ư?͜҉_

_What do you mean?_

_L̶i̴͢k͏e̴,̡̧͘ i͢͝f ̷͝͏y͢ơu w͏̵͡e̢̕r̡e͠n̢’͟͏҉t̢ ͠ą ̨̡͝p̴̨̕r̕in͟͞͏ç̴e̡.̧҉ ̵͢I̷̢͟f̢ ͘y͟o̸u͝͏ ̴̢̨w̢e̛ŗ͢e̵̕ j̛͡u̕͜s͠ţ͘ a͡ ҉͟p̷̕le̶̕b̡e̢҉…̕ o̢r̶͘ ͘͠m̶͞ay̴̵͞b̶͜͠e̢͏̧ a͘ ̸c͏̷at̢! ҉̧Or̴͢͠ a̧̕̕ ̧͢r͏ǫ͏ck͟͢͠ ̴͢ơ̧r̴̛ s̶͢o͝m̕͢et̷̨h̶҉in̸g͠.̸̧ Y͜͢ou͞ ̸̛ȩ̷v̧e͟r͟҉ ̵͞t̴̡̛h̴̢͡i̢̧n̷͡k̴ ą͡b҉ou͠t̡͘ ͞͏i͡t͟?҉_

_They were sitting on Noct’s couch. A movie had been playing on the tv at some point, but it is long finished and the screen now idles on the film’s title page in Noct’s streaming library. They are bathed in blue light, and Noct’s head is pillowed on h̡i͡s͢ ̷͘f͝r̴i̧͜͠e̶n̸d͟͞’̛s҉ thigh._

_He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to._

No matter how much he tries, Noct can’t remember his name or his face. But he knows him, somehow. He knows him.

»»————　★　————««

Gladio has a weird expression for most of Noct’s firearms crash course. Guns are not really his thing and they aren’t Noct’s either by any stretch of the imagination, but he looks less unconfident and more… uncomfortable.

Noct sighs as he misses his mark once again, his shot hitting the very edge of the target.

“You aren’t bracing your shooting arm right,” Gladio says. He reaches out and adjusts Noct’s form himself. “Like that.”

Noct aims once again, steadying his breaths.

_A̕l̛l͏ ̷̸i͜n ̡͠b̵͞͝u̴l̕l̵̴ę̷͝t͜ ̶̷tim҉e͞,̢͟ ҉̧b͡a̸̢̛by̡.͞_

Bullseye.

»»————　★　————««

“This part always seemed weird,” Noct flips through his history book, yawning against the back of his hand. “We’re losing the war for a hundred years, and then suddenly we just… win?”

“It is theorized that the Empire had some sort of project planned that fell through after Chief Researcher Besithia died unexpectedly in 721, taking crucial details of his work with him when he did,” Ignis reaches over and turns a few pages himself, skimming over the version of events provided in Insomnia’s public school curriculum. “The Empire was much more unstable than they pretended to be, and Besithia was working on some kind of hail mary to win the war definitively. Without it, Lucis was able to turn the tide and finally put an end to Niflheim’s subjugation of Eos. Your father was eighteen when the war ended, just a few years off from being crowned.”

“That doesn’t—” Noct cuts himself off, frowning as that same feeling of _wrongness_ washes over him again. “Doesn’t that feel weird to you?”

_As͟ ̷it t̴̡̛ur̴n̸s̡ ̴o̧̕u̷t̡, ͜I͠'m̢ ͏̛͢ǫ̨n̴͢e̶͘ ̧of̡ ҉͢t̶̡ḩ͢e͏m._

Ignis hums contemplatively, his brow furrowing. “You know, I suppose it does.”

»»————　★　————««

“Dad?”

“Yes, Noctis?” Regis puts his spoon down and meets Noct’s gaze. Noct’s chest tightens a little as he takes a moment to really look at his father, at the way he’s aged. He expanded the Wall after the Empire fell, encompassing not just Insomnia but much of the outlying regions of Lucis in its daemon-repelling power, and today Noct can really see how it’s worn him down over the years. The concern is almost enough to make Noct change his mind on what he wanted to ask. Not quite, though.

“Do you ever get a feeling like everything is off, somehow?” Noct returns to his food, picking at his fish. It’s his favorite, but right now he can’t find the taste for it. “Like somewhere, someone made one decision and it’s totally messed up everything?”

Regis blanches. For just a moment, Noctis is certain he sees the Ring on his father’s hand glow and spark with power. Regis’s jaw works as he visibly takes some time to think on how to respond. Noct’s apprehension grows.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Regis says eventually. “Regardless of how history may have been meant to play out, what we have now is the way our lives are meant to be _now_.”

“So you feel it too! Don’t you? Like something’s missing,” Noct swallows, his grip on his fork tightening. “Like _someone’s_ missing.”

“Perhaps,” Regis takes a deep breath. “But it’s no matter. Nothing can be done, and it is best to appreciate life’s blessings as they come to us rather than dwelling on what could have been.”

»»————　★　————««

Whenever he feels overwhelmed by daily life, Noctis goes up to the roof of the his apartment building and dangles his feet from the edge, watching the sky change colors beyond the Wall. He’s done it quite often lately as his royal duties begin to become simultaneously more time consuming and more plentiful. It’s gotten to the point that Ignis and Gladio begin coming up there first whenever they visit and he isn’t in his rooms, rather than calling him to inquire on his whereabouts.

Despite playing at being annoyed whenever his friends seek him out, Noctis appreciates the company when he’s like this.

_W̵̧͠h̴̨͟e̶̵̡n ̴̶we ͞ha̶̧҉n͡g̕ ̷͘o̷̡҉ut̷̢,̷ i̛͢t̸̡̨'͝͠ş̵͟ ̕͢so̡͠ ͟m̛͢u̷c̢h ̨̡fu̵̧n ͢I ̷f̶͜o̵̷r̷͝g͟͢et ͢w͠ha̷̴t͘͜͡ ̡I'͡m͡ n͝o͝t̢.̸_

Gladio and Ignis sit down next to Noct without a moment’s hesitation. Ignis doesn’t bat an eye at the way his perfect outfit must be getting dirty from the hot concrete beneath him, and fondness wells up in Noct’s ribs.

Gladio pops open a beer, leaning forward to watch the cap spiral down off the edge of the building to the streets below. Noctis follows it as it goes, imagining leaping after it. Catching it in his hands, holding sharp and pliable metal inbetween his fingers, bending it in a fist as he phases just in time to survive the drop.

“Want some?” Gladio tips the neck of his bottle in Noct’s direction, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not old enough for that,” Noct says, though he reaches out anyway.

“Well,” Ignis holds out his hand after Noct takes a drink, and so they all begin to pass the one bottle around the three of them even though Gladio is the only one who really ought to be drinking, for legality’s sake. “Rules are meant to be broken.”

»»————　★　————««

“Out of anyone,” Noct wrings his hands in his lap, feeling awfully childish in front of Luna who is twenty-four and flourishing as an Oracle under her mother’s wing. “Out of anyone, I figured you would know why… I just can’t stop thinking about it.”  
Luna, two days into her month long diplomatic stay in Lucis, rests her chin on curled fingers, scanning through the notebook Noct has taken to keeping over the years as his dreams and feelings of some sort of twisted déjà vu grew worse. Scrawled in the pages are notes about someone who doesn’t exist, who Noctis somehow still misses as if a part of himself has been torn out. Someone who made the whole world falter and misstep into whatever it is now.

 _He sang a lot_ , Noct wrote on one page. He can’t remember the tune or the lyrics to any of the songs, but he knows that he spent a lot of time with humming in the air.

What time? When?

“Fate is mercurial, in some ways,” Luna murmurs as she runs her finger down a page, alighting on a doodle of a pistol subtitled _Lionheart?_ “Yet in other ways, it is fixed as a stone is to the heart of a mountain. This person that fate has cast away may have turned history from its path, but a feat of that sort cannot be accomplished with nothing given up in return. It is often said that Providence loves sacrifice.”

Noctis wonders what he would be willing to give up to make the gaps in his life fill with light.

»»————　★　————««

“I want to leave the city. Go out and see Lucis,” Noct blurts out one night, as he and his father share a plate of sweet rolls on the balcony of his father’s suite. “Like you did when you were younger.”

“You do?” Regis selects another roll, giving it a cursory glance before giving it a try. “You’ve never mentioned it before.”

“I do,” Noct echoes. It feels like the most _right_ thing he’s said in a year. “I can take Ignis and Gladio with me so you won’t have to send the whole damn Crownsguard after me. It’d be like a roadtrip. I can… I can pay for it, you know. I had that part time job for a while. I saved up everything from it. I won’t make the Crown pay fo—”

“Let me think about it,” Regis says. Then he smiles, and Noct is pretty damn sure he already knows what the answer will be.

_A̡͢͠r͝e͏̕ ̵͢we҉ dǫ̛o҉͠m͘e͜͜d̵͘?̛ P̢r͞e̢͡t̵͝t͢y̴ ̵̨s҉ư̷r̵̛e̷̡ we̕'̧͟r̶e͜ d҉̸̕ơ͏o̷m̨͏e̢͘͞d̕.̴_

»»————　★　————««

Gladio buys a fourth camping chair, for reasons he can’t explain.

None of them have the heart to leave it behind.

It gets packed into the back of the Regalia with the rest of their supplies, and Noct has to throw himself into whining about the heat as they leave the city because otherwise he’s afraid he might cry.

»»————　★　————««

They throw themselves into hunting because Noct’s saved-up job money only goes so far when trying to repair a custom classic convertible, and he refuses to go to his dad for money when he already promised not to.

“This one here’s supposed to be pretty weak to bullets of any sort,” the tipster taps the hunt flyer on the far left. “I don’t suppose any of you lads are the firearm type?”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Ignis pushes up his glasses with one hand, and his lenses glint in the harsh diner lighting. “Unfortunately we all specialize in martial weapons.”

“That’s a shame,” the tipster shrugs and shuffles the flyers around. “I reckon this one might be more your speed, then.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Ignis concludes the exchange, taking a short stack of paper with him as he stands up from his seat at the bar.

“As long as the job gets done, I hardly care who does it.”

Noct tries out the old gun in his armory on their next hunt. He hates it.

»»————　★　————««

They are several weeks into their roadtrip, nearing the far reaches of the Vesperpool, when Noctis is awoken by a chill sweeping through the night air and settling in his flesh. He tries to burrow deeper in his sleeping bag, but it does nothing to warm him. He gives up eventually and exits the tent, bleary-eyed and bedraggled.

Standing in the center of the camp, bare feet flat against the cold coals of the night’s fire, stands Shiva in all her divine might. Noct knows he should bow, if not prostrate himself on the ground before her, but he stands instead. He doesn’t feel much like bowing. This all seems awfully familiar, even if he has never seen a god before.

“What are you here for? Noct asks, his voice seeming far too loud in the crystal cold stillness of the air.

 **_You seek answers for which you do not know the question_ ** , Shiva drifts closer to Noct, barely touching the ground as she moves. **_You ask questions of which you are afraid to learn the answer. For what purpose does the Chosen toil for knowledge this world is not meant to know?_ **

“I knew someone once,” Noct touches his own chest, pressing his hand over a space in his sternum that aches. “I’ve never met him. But I knew him. I… I loved him. I want to find him. That’s it.”

Shiva’s face softens, and she reaches out to caress the side of Noct’s face. **_Mankind was always foolish in the face of love. So, however, are the gods. Your question and your answer both lie in a place forgotten by all of Eos, desolate even from the forces of nature itself. Beyond my love’s grave, to the north of its fiery zenith, you will know him._ **

And then she is gone.

»»————　★　————««

Noct apologizes to his father in his head every time the Regalia hits a particularly painful bump in the unpaved road. He had to practically manhandle Ignis into agreeing to force the Regalia off pavement and onto a frankly terrifying mountain pass to the north of the Rock of Ravatough, but once he explained what he saw in the dead of night Ignis could hardly protest.

Gladio curses as he narrowly avoids hitting his head off the back of the passenger seat, barely managing to keep himself steady enough to read as Ignis does his best to navigate a road that is about as well maintained as Noct’s apartment was when he was a freshman in high school.

They hit a pothole, and Noct’s phone goes flying out of the car.

“That’s it,” Noct makes Ignis stop so he can retrieve his poor cell, and mournfully inspects its cracked —but still functional— screen. “We’re putting the top up.”

»»————　★　————««

“This is it, huh?” Gladio peers up at the ruins, a critical eye running over the soft red lights embedded in the stone. “What the hell is it?”

“It’s called Obcasio,” Noct says, pointing at the runes etched into the arched doorway into the old temple. “I think, anyway. I was never great at Old Lucian.”

“What is it you expect to find here, exactly?” Ignis crosses his arms, pressing his limbs close to his chest as a cold breeze whistles through the valley. “If not… our missing piece.”

Noctis doesn’t want to think about the temple being empty. A devastated, decrepit lot of water and mortar and mountain rock. “We’ll find him.”

»»————　★　————««

The temple is one room, built like an old amphitheatre. The seating is filled with stone statues, armored men holding gauntleted hands to their heads or frozen in the middle of tearing at their chestplates. Some are missing limbs. Some are missing heads. Noct has never seen anything like these statues, the armor design being almost Imperial but still leagues from anything Nifmade that was recovered after the end of the war. He tries not to meet their helmeted eyes as he creeps across the room toward the figure in the center.

In the middle of the ampitheatre, with his hand raised to the sky and tears carved lovingly down his stone cheeks, is _him_ . He is everything Noct imagined and yet still nothing, his bright exuberance imprisoned in a grotesquely realistic statue. Noctis could almost imagine that this is _him_ himself, turned to stone following the turn of fate’s predestined course.

Noctis touches his hand, and his fingers curl around cold, unyielding stone.

Behind him, Ignis gasps out a sob.

»»————　★　————««

**_Why have you come to me, scourg'd apostle of the Chosen?_ **

_I ̢͘w̵̧a̸nt̶ ͡t͢͟o͢͠ ̴̛m̴̷͠a͟k̢͘͞e ͢҉̕a͝ d͝ȩal̨̛.̨̛̕_

**_What do you offer to a god that yearns for naught?_ **

_M̴y̶͟͠ ͢l͜i̢͘f̡e,̢͟ ̧įf̵̧ ͡͏it̸ ̶i̸͡s͠ ͘w̧or̨͜th͜͠ ̶̵a̛͡n̷̕͟y͠t̢h̡͡i̸̕͟ng̡͝ ͞a̸͢ţ̕ ̢a̸͡ll̡͡.̸͜_

**_The life of one mortal is inconsequential._ **

T̵͟a̴̶̛ke̶ ͢͢m͘o̴r͏ę̸̢. ̴͢I̷͞ ḑ͢o͟n̢̕͠'̛͟͞t̛̕͟ ̢̕ca͟͡r͏̢e̴͟ ̧̕wh̵̵a͡͞t͠ ̸͘y̵o̴̴̡ų͠ ̵͟d҉̡o͘͜҉.̡̢͢ ̴Y̕͞o͢u ͏҉̷c̡̡͢a͘͘n̨ ̡͞w̡i̷͜p̶͘e̛̕͟ ͜҉m̸̵e ̢͢o҉u͝t͟͡ ̕of ̨e̷͡x͟i̛͘͟s̢͠t̢͞en҉̷c͞e҉̨͏ it̴se̴̸l̴f̷̵ ͘f͢͢o҉r̛ ͟a͟l̵̸l ͞I̶ ̶͠c̶̴a̧͜r̸e.͢͠ ͝͏O͢b̨͟li͟t̴er̸̵a͏t̢͢͝e͘ ̷m͏e͏̧ ̵͠fro͟͞m ͞r̶̷ę̴a͝͠ļ͜i͡ty҉͜.͡ ̕J̢u̵͠s̶t p̶l̛̕ę̷ą̴͝se, ̴ļi̢͘͢st͜e̸n̵ t̵o͏͘ ̴̶̛m͏e.

**_In exchange for a soul, across all of reality. Across all of time._ **

**_I see._ **

**_What is it you desire from Bahamut, the Guardian of the Stone?_ **

Ȩ̡̛n͝͠d̵̴͢ ̛͘͜th͞ę̶ Em̸̶̨p̵͝i̶͟͟re̢͢ ͏be̶fo͞r͘͘e͢͢ ̕͝i͏͜t̸͘͞ c͏an̷ ̨ev̶̴e͢͢͠r̛ ̛͟t̷͟ou̷͞c̴͜h̕͢͠ ̢N̢o͟͟c̶t̡'͘͡s ͟͝lif͢ȩ̵͢.̴ ͢M̶͟a̛ķe̸̛͜ ̸҉i҉̛t̸̛̕ ͝s̴͘͡o̵͢͠ ̧̨the͞͏̨ir ͠d̷a̡̧e̕͢mo̢͠͡ni̸̸̡c̛ ͝ex̶͜p͠e̴͠rį͡me̷n̷͜t̴͜s͠͏ ̴͞f̡a̷il͢.͜͞ ̷̧̛N̴o̧̢͟ ̶̡͟da͘͜e͠m͞͠on̨̕ ̴b̸̷͜ree̴͢d̛͢i͏n͏͜g̕,̕ n̴̛o͘͟͞ m̡a̷g̡͡i̷͢t̡͝e҉͘k͡ ̕̕͜p̷͞͡ro̢̕g̕r̵͢am̛͜,̶͜ ̢͘͟n̷̕ơ҉͡t͟͠h̴͠i͜͝͠n̴͠g.̢̛ ̛͡M̢̨ak͢͡͝e̸҉ t͢h̸̨͢e͢͜͝m̴̵ ̧̨̛l̢o͞s͜͞e̷̢̕ tḩ͝e̛͠ ̶͏waŗ̢̛.҉ ̸I̕͞ ͟k̶͘n̛o̶̕͞w̨ ͏͟y̕o̶u̕ ̴͝wo̶̡n̴҉'͘͝t̢ ҉̡f҉įx̕͘ ͠t̶ḩe̸ ͟p͘͜rơ͜p̷he̶̢҉c̨͏y̡͞ b̷͜u͟t͘͢.͟͝͏.̧͟.͘ ͜͏b҉̡ut mayb̵̸e̛͢ ͞t̶͟ha҉̛͞t͞.̷͜ ̶̧͠M̷͢a͜͡y͢be͢ ̸j͏u̢s̷͡t͟͡.̨͞.͜͝.̷̡ ̴̡̧j̵u̷̢st̕ ̵l͏et̡̨ ̶h̷i̸҉m̛ b҉̴e̴̴ ͞h̛a͞p̢p̶y ̛f͏̡o͞r ̴a ͠l͞i҉̛t͡҉t̸͠͠l͏e͠҉̵ w͜h̨͜i͜͝le ͞҉̵b̸̡e҉f͝o̸r̶̵e̕..̸̶.̵͡

**_The Prophecy will not be averted by your choice._ **

I̵͏ ̢͠k̵̡now͘.̷͘͡

**_There will not be a trace of you left, in any time. In any universe. You will never exist, and will have never existed. You do not exist even now._ **

  


_P̵͡l͠e҉a͞se̵̛._

  


_J̕ų̵͝s̵̕t̨ ͝f̶͟o͘r҉ ̛͜͡a ̛l͏̶i̢t̛͠t͡le̵̢͝ ͘wh̛͘il̷̕e̸.̢̛..͏_

  
  
  
  


_L̡̤̫͚̳̪̖̖͚͉̩̩̫͕͓̻̟̅̒̀ͮ͛̅̓ͥ̽͡͡͞e̸̢̲̼͎̦̰̪͚̩ͧ͐͗͊̉́ͭͭ͂͊͆ͮ̌͂ṯ̖̖̣͚̘ͬ̌ͪͪ͒͊͗ͬͦͭ̊̊ͣͤͨ̏͌͘͡ ͧ̇̆̓̾̀̓ͨ̓̍́͒ͥ͠͏҉̜͙̲̲̗̲̮̲̰̜̗̯̙̥̻ḫ̸̸̨̬͖̘̤͔͎̟̣̭̗̫̗̪͍͍͇͛ͣ̌̇ͯ̊ͪ͑̽ͩͣ̓ͮ̉̓̓̈́̕͝ĭ̢͚̻̼͙͙̗̮͔͍̞̦͒̐̈ͬ́͒̒̎̈ͩ̋ͯ̆͊̚͞ͅͅm͍̩͇̩̲͇͖̮̞̻̻̭̖̱̤͎̳̩͈̃͗̿̄͂̃ͪ͆̂͘͜͞ ̧̜̗͚̟̫͍̘̤̰̣̪̑ͪͧ̏̅ͪ͠͠b̵̙͍̥̰̫̪̹̫̭̟̞̎̄̐ͣ͐̍̎̾̎͘̕͠e̴̜̪̩̰͍͖̱̦̝̣̠͉̻̜̼̳͒͊̐̏̔͗̐͋̚͘͟ ̧ͩ̎͒̈́ͮͦͮ̈͐ͥͯ̓͊̎͐̄͏̡̞͎͍̭̯̟͈͖͔̗̩̝͕͙̠̼̩̺̝͟͜h̶̸̫̤̦̙̲̟͔͉͙̥̠̘̬͕̥̲ͥ̊ͣ͑ͯ̎͌ͥͣ̎ͅa̶̵̗͕̩̹̯͉͉ͯͥ̃̔̅͢͡ͅp̵̡̡̬̜̝̭̤̺̠͇͖̗̫̓̓͌̆̎͛̒͞p̧͕̺̞͙͉̖͙̤̘ͮ̽̆ͧ̀̇̽ͦͥ͌͋̔̇̓̄̚͞͡y̟̭̪̞͉̳̦̼͚͕̐̿̈́̈́͂́͌̊͘͜ͅ.̸̖̰̲̼̬̜ͣ̎ͤͪͧ̈́̋ͯͬ̋ͥ̇͜͞_

**Author's Note:**

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